The Pledge Fic 5: Caught in the Rain
by KSPretenderFan
Summary: The death of a number puts John and Zoe at opposite sides. Can they work through it?


**AN: I can't believe it's been five weeks already since I made the Pledge. I would have to say, overall, it's been a great success. We've had several new authors try their hand at writing j/z fic: EnjoySeries and LeahLiu. Some already authors that posted new j/z fics: Samantha Feng and Saphrona Attecomb and POIJane. There was even a new j/z fic that I'm pretty sure wasn't prompted by my pledge. But hey we get what we get right? POIJane posted her 3rd chapter in the Red Stiletto diaries! Check it out, it's hot. And let her know what you all think!**

**AN2: So this here is Fic 5 of my Pledge. Hope you enjoy and drop me a comment, review, note telling me what you all think. **

**AN3: I keep forgetting to Thank my go-to betas Sassy J. and POIJane. They review my stuff quite a bit and have been a great help when I get stuck. Remember The Twin Series? Yep, that was Sassy J. who helped me out there. And When Engagement risk is completed, I have another one for the Landslide Series that sprouted because of a prompt from POIJane. Thanks girls! You rule.**

* * *

**The Pledge: Caught in the Rain**

The cold wind cut through Zoe's long sleeved running top like a razor. The running tights and skull cap didn't help either. The air was damp with a dense rain and had gotten heavier the further into her run she got. Somewhere some god was laughing at her, Zoe thought, as the rain that started out as just a little mist turned into a torrential downpour and continued to hammer down on her. A little mist, a little spotty shower, she could handle; but a downright monsoon? No thank you. She hated the rain, she always had. On any normal evening she wouldn't have been out running.

But the day that had started out like any other normal day for her had turned gruesome. She could hear and feel her running shoes squishing as she ran. And she was cold, Holy Hell was it cold. Though she could barely feel her legs, her running tights didn't hold up to frigid temperatures when wet, she still ran. As the dampness and chill corroded her basal temperature, the thought never entered her mind to stop running.

Lightning fizzled in the sky as she counted in her head; one, one-thousand, two, one-thousand, three, one-thousand, then thunder boomed startling her for just a moment. The rain continued to pummel her and still she ran, not even thinking about finding a place to stop and wait out the storm. It was the middle of the night; she was smack dab in the middle of Manhattan, no phone, no cash for a cab. She was the only lunatic on the streets thinking she could outrun her guilt.

It was raining so much she was expecting Noah and his damn ark to float by.

* * *

_Earlier in the day:_

It was nine o'clock in the morning, an hour after she told Lisa Weiss she would be back to see if she would accept Zoe's proposition. The driver pulled up to the modest apartment building close to one of the smaller colleges in New York City.

"I shouldn't be long . . . keep the car running," she told the driver as she exited the vehicle.

Zoe looked up and down the street in front of the building and noticed that it was eerily quiet. For being this close to the college, at nine o'clock in the morning during a week day, she would have expected a lot more kids around. Shaking off the feeling of unease, she proceeded towards the building, her strides as determined as her demeanor.

She detested the fact that she was late for this appointment, in truth, she was too OCD to be late to anything. But today, her first meeting of the day ran late and she had been anxious ever since she woke up alone that morning. Something had kept her up at night, tossing and turning.

As she walked into the building something was propelling her up the stairs; to not waste time waiting for the elevator. It was only three flights. Something was wrong, her instincts were telling her, she just didn't know what. Something was pulling her up those stairs. She didn't stop climbing until she reached the third floor landing and her stomach clenched. A coldness ran through her, as a sense of apprehension came over her.

She ran the rest of the way to the apartment that was her destination. Reaching the door, she stopped abruptly and knocked. After several beats, when no one answered, she tried the door knob and found it unlocked.

Pushing her way in, she called out, "Lisa? Miss Weiss, its Zoe Morgan."

Sighing, when no one responded, she started walking around the small apartment. Spotting the bedroom, she made her way and gently knocked on the door that was slightly ajar. "I'm usually not late, I apologize, and I know your decision to make wasn't easy . . ."

Pushing the door open, she walked further into the bedroom and stopped as soon as she saw the pool of blood dripping down Lisa's right wrist which was hanging over the side of the bed. She could see more blood on the bed beneath the left wrist.

"Lisa . . . Oh Jesus," She whispered out, moving into action pulling her cell phone out and dialing 911. As she waited to be connected, she dashed to the bathroom to see if there was anything she could use to stop the bleeding. Finding some gauze and alcohol and some swabs, she raced back to the bedroom.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?" As soon as Zoe heard the 9-1-1 operator answer, she put her phone on speaker so she could work on staunching the bleeding.

"Lisa Weiss, she's twenty, she slashed her wrists, I've checked for debris in her wounds and there aren't any, I'm going to wrap them in gauze so that it stops the bleeding . . . Please send someone, I don't think she's breathing. . . Please hurry, she's - she's pregnant . . . " Zoe worked frantically and adjusted Lisa's position on the bed.

"Ma'am, someone is on their way. Don't worry about cleaning the wound at this time, just work on stopping the bleeding. . . "

Zoe nodded her head, and then realized that the operator couldn't see her. "Lisa? It's Zoe Morgan, can you hear me?" She breathed out as she carefully wrapped the girl's right wrist as tight as she could, then did the same with the left.

As soon as both wrists were wrapped, Zoe tried to get her pulse. "I d-don't feel a pulse, I'm not sure she's alive . . " She said anxiously to the operator.

"Ma'am? Miss Morgan, they are on their way . . ." Zoe could faintly hear the operator in the background since she had switched it off of speaker as she tried to talk to Lisa Weiss.

"Lisa, this isn't the answer. They changed their minds; they didn't want you to get rid of the baby. And Josh? He wants to see you again . . . please, hang in there . . . your baby needs you to hang in there, okay?" Zoe said with a trembling voice as she brushed Lisa's hair aside as she lay there.

"What the hell?" John whispered from the bedroom doorway. "Zoe, what are you doing here?"

He reached the bed, his eyes immediately taking in Lisa's wrapped wrists and the blood all over the floor, the bed, Zoe's dress, and hands. Gripping her arm, he jerked her up off the bed and pulled her around to face him.

"What the hell is going on Zoe? Did you have something to do with this?" The anger and confusion were blatant in his accusatory stare.

A momentary flash of surprise erupted in Zoe's eyes. Typical of the Fixer, once an attack was made, her defenses went up and she staged a counter attack. "Of course not, do you think I slashed her wrists for her? Purposefully got her blood all over my hands and clothes? I found her this way, maybe you would have found her yourself if you were quicker." Shooting him a snide glare she yanked her arm away.

He stepped back as if she had physically struck him. "This was the 'problem' you had to fix? Who was it this time? Senator Munroe? The one that can't keep his dick in his pants? Or is it Councilman Rush, the one who has a penchant for girls that are too young for him? Where's the line Zoe?"

"John, you know I can't tell you who I'm working for." Zoe's voice was cold as ice.

"Zoe, don't pull that crap with me. I've warned you time and time again that the things you fix affect other innocent people," John said his self control barely concealing his mounting anger.

"Don't you dare tell me how to do my job. I know what I'm doing . . . " Running her hands through her hair, she looked away from him. Not wanting him to see the doubt that briefly flitted through her eyes.

"Damn it Zoe, this may have already cost an innocent life." He turned his back to her as he went closer to the bed and looked down at Lisa.

"Two . . ." She said, sitting back down on the bed and rubbing her face with both her hands.

"What?"

She looked at him with deep regret in her eyes and said, "Lisa Weiss is pregnant, John."

* * *

The rain was still driving down in sheets and her legs and arms were still pumping, her shoes still squishing with each step she took. Maybe if she died of pneumonia it would make her and God even; her life in exchange for the life of Lisa and her unborn baby? Guilt was going to keep her up at nights. The thought that she may have played the game a little differently if she had known about the instability in Lisa's past.

Logically, she knew it wasn't her fault. Lisa successfully taking her life and the life of her unborn baby was not something that Zoe could have foreseen. The Senator and his son had told her that Lisa was trying to black mail them; that she really didn't want to keep the baby; she just wanted money for the abortion. But when Zoe met with her the day before, she felt the sincerity in Lisa. She wanted the baby; she wanted to have a life with the baby. Which was the reason why Zoe had scheduled another meeting with her this morning. It would have given her time to talk to the Senator and his son again and try to convince him of her sincerity. She just hadn't expected Lisa to take matters into her own hands.

As her surroundings became more familiar to her, she started to slow down and catch her breath. Looking up, she saw that it was dark in his loft. He wasn't home yet, she didn't even know if he would be tonight. But she had found herself drawn this way when she started her run. Though it was farther than she was comfortable running in the dark, she was compelled to run to him. For what, she wasn't sure anymore. Their confrontation this morning was the first time she had ever seen disappointment and regret in his eyes. It was the first time she had felt as if she had failed him, and it didn't set well with her.

She was bent over; hands on her knees, breathing in and out, in and out. As her breathing settled back to a normal rhythm, crossed the street and sat at a park bench with no coverage from the rain. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she hugged them to her and laid her chin on them. Shivering, she looked across the street hoping he would come home soon. It was too cold and she was too tired.

Minutes passed and the only thing that changed was the flow of the rain. Her tears of guilt came and went in waves as her mind mulled over what she could have said differently; to not push Lisa over the edge and do the unthinkable.

The icy rain pounded down on her; at that point she was numb and didn't even feel the downpour. She sat staring at the building before her. She could feel the lump in her throat bobbing up and down as she swallowed. Her eyes locked on the building in front of her; she couldn't breathe and her heart was pounding an unyielding staccato.

"What the hell are you doing here Zoe?" she scolded herself. "Are you a glutton for punishment? Do you want him to finally say you're not what he thought you were? That it was a mistake?" In truth, at that moment she had no idea what she expected his reaction would be. She just wanted to see him and be near him. There was always something about being with John that seemed to make things better and she needed things to be better. She needed him to tell her it wasn't her fault. The only thing that scared her was that he thought it was all her fault. He never said it that morning, but that look he gave her was something else.

Suddenly though her eyes had never left the building, she spotted John walking down the street. His shoulders hunched against the rain, his coat collar flipped up. She felt paralyzed, unable to move. He was just a few yards away, across the street and she was struck dumb by the choice she had to make. The dread she had buried deep all day began to claw its way out. The freezing cold rain blended with a fresh attack of hot tears.

"Damn it Zoe. Suck it up. Pull yourself together and roll with the punches." She screamed at herself as she leaned her chin against her knees again. She was completely soaked through her clothes, the frigid wind cutting through her pathetic barriers.

Her attention was caught by a woman at a window in John's apartment building. A man came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on the top of her head. Not too long ago, that was them, her and John, at the cabin in the mountains. Tearing her eyes from the couple, she looked up the street again towards John.

She started as her eyes met his.

* * *

He was heading back to his loft after a long day. He pulled his coat tighter around his body, as the rain was unrelenting and getting colder by the minute.

He had sensed her rather than saw her. He watched her as she watched his building, not sure what to make of her sitting out in the bench getting soaked to the skin. Sitting still, chin on the knees her arms were wrapped around. She appeared to be bracing herself, preparing herself for whatever had brought her to him.

She was dressed in running gear. If she ran all the way from her apartment to his, it was a good ten miles and he was impressed. Though she looked like a drowned rat and her clothes were soaked through, she still looked perfect. He was convinced that every piece of clothing ever made fit her perfectly, she made it perfect. It wasn't her physical beauty that made her seem perfect, it was the way she carried herself; graceful and proud. The only time he had ever seen her defeated was that morning. He had seen the pain and guilt in her eyes when the EMT's announced that Lisa was dead, that she had probably bled out hours before anyone had found her.

But not her, he could tell she blamed herself and he, idiot that he was, had lashed out at her before he knew the entire story. Lashed out at her in the most hurtful of ways; making her feel like a failure. To Zoe, failure was weakness. For someone whose strength was beyond belief, beyond reason and sometimes beyond his comprehension and imagination, failure was not an option. His only thought was that he had failed Harold and failed Lisa, the irrelevant he had sworn to protect. His strength had taken a beating that morning as well; it always did when someone died. It was doubly worse when they took their own life as well as the life of an unborn child.

What he had always loved, yes love - they had admitted to each other and had accepted it for what it was, about her were her eyes. Often unwavering and unblinking, her gaze had always been straight forward though forever concealing her true feelings. But to someone who cared enough to take a closer look, her eyes spoke volumes. How they hardened in anger yet softened with happiness. How they shone in excitement yet dimmed in sorrow. How they widened in anticipation yet hooded in sublimation. To someone who cared, and he cared a great deal, he had heard her loud and clear that morning. He just hadn't been listening.

He had known from the get-go that she was a contradiction in description; strong yet vulnerable, independent yet in need of reassurances and affection. A force to be reckoned with, once her mind was made up to do something, nothing could stand in her way. She'd proven over and over that she would blast through any impediment thrown her way. In her own self-important way, she thought the world revolved around her and damn it if it didn't. But deep inside, there was that little girl and all she ever wanted was someone to approve of what she had done with her life. Success was the only option, failure was not. Yet over the last year, they had shown each other that no matter what mess they found themselves in, they always had each other's back, they always supported each other, and that was their partnership, it was who they were together.

They had both failed each other that morning by lashing out, but they were both at vulnerable emotional states then, it was time to forgive and move on. It was what a true relationship was about, the give and take, the forgiving and forgetting, in sickness and in health, 'til their deaths do they part.

He found her eyes across the street and tried to convey his thoughts but instead he went to her.

* * *

It seemed but a minute after their eyes met across the street and he was there standing in front of her on the bench. She felt herself trapped in the intensity of his arctic blue gaze.

John was struck, up close she looked a mess. Her face was tired and tears stained her cheeks, her eyes red and swollen from crying. She was shaking uncontrollably but he wasn't sure if it was from the cold and rain or from the story of guilt and sadness her eyes were telling him. He knew what and who put that guilt and pain in her eyes; circumstances and their own foolish pride did.

All he could think of was to envelope her in his arms, to warm her and give her refuge from the freezing cold and rain. She watched as he opened his arms without saying a word and desperate for his heat and comfort, she stood and walked into his soggy yet warm embrace. He was just as drenched as she was but she didn't care. She was tired, tired enough that she rested against him and allowed him to lead her to his building and into the warmth of his loft.

* * *

"Let's get you warmed up," John said as he ushered Zoe to the bathroom. "What were you thinking running in that mess out there?"

"I w-w-asn't . . . " she stammered, her teeth were chattering too much. She pointed to his just as equally drenched clothing.

"Take your wet clothes off and hand them to me, I'll put them in the wash." John commanded as he turned the water in the shower on and adjusted the temperature. He had half expected Zoe to protest but she didn't, even she realized that this was purely to get warm given her bonehead decision to run in the damn freezing rain.

She was able to take her skull cap off without a problem, but the rest of her gear was a struggle. The fabric was wet and obstinate, her hands were frozen and disobliging, and her running tights were cold, contrary, and wet, which seriously increased the frustration. Huffing with annoyance she flipped the toilet seat down and plopped herself on it still struggling with her top. After a few grunts and curses, she was finally relieved of her wet clammy clothing.

"Get in the shower and warm up." John said as he took her wet clothing from her and headed out of the bathroom, presumably to take them to the wash.

When he came back, Zoe was still perched on the toilet seat shivering with her arms around her waist. "Jesus woman, did you toss your brain out with your skull cap?" He huffed, pulling her from her seat on the toilet, securing his arm around her waist, and hauling her into the shower.

Zoe whimpered as the warm water flowed over her cold skin. John wasn't sure if it was a whimper of pain or pleasure; since she was cold, either was possible.

Though he hadn't been in the freezing rain as long as Zoe had, he went ahead, took his own wet clothes off and got in the shower with her. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him, so the warm shower sluiced down on both of them. With a quivering sigh, Zoe put her arms around his waist and burrowed her head in his chest, and closed her eyes.

Now that they had started to warm up again, closing their eyes seemed like a wonderful idea, so he propped his chin on top of her head and let his own eyes drift shut.

Rubbing her nose on his chest, she whispered, "This feels good."

John was reasonably certain that she was talking about the heat, but it could have been him as well. He wasn't going to ask. He was just going to savor the closeness and soak up the warmth. Slowly, he could feel the cold dissipating, draining away under the warm water of the shower.

As they had gotten warmer, John became more conscious of how perfect they both fit together. Zoe was pressed against him, supple and pleasing, with very nice curves that he knew so well. The spray of the water hit her and ran down unmarred, soft skin. She was wet and soft and naked.

Running his hands up and down Zoe's back, John tried to get some heat in her. He could feel the change in her as she warmed up; she was relaxed, her breathing had ceased being short and choppy. He felt nothing but the rise and fall of her chest; her cheek was pressed against his chest.

It was so easy to stand underneath the shower holding on to John and letting the events of the day go. No more feeling of guilt, no more fear of failure, no more thoughts of rejection; just them and nothing more but their warmed bodies and their acceptance for who and what they were.

He felt her lips on his chest, gently kissing her way across it; followed by a few licks and nips, as she breathed in his clean scent. Slowly, she became conscious of him as he swelled between them. Raising her eyes to his, she found him gazing at her intently. She knew what he wanted and needed at that moment. She needed it to. They both wanted to be close as close could be, with nothing to separate them.

He brushed her wet hair back from her face and cupped her cheek with one big hand, then his mouth was on hers. Though his hand was gentle, his mouth wasn't; kissing her hungrily, hard and fierce and demanding. Instinctively she gave him what he craved, what he seemed to need. Nothing was of substance at that point, except the sudden need that flared between them; the need to be together, just this way.

He raised her, pressed her against the tiled wall. Instinctively wrapping her legs around him, she opened herself to him. He reached down between them to position himself against her. His slight entrance was enough to fuel her desire. She struggled, wanting more, and he gave it to her. With a growl he drove in deep, taking her breath, both tempering yet escalating the sharp need. She groaned in return, at her acceptance of him, at the feeling of being expanded by his fullness starting to push and pull inside her. Zoe closed her eyes and tightened the grasp of her legs around him.

Crying out, she came hard and fast, vacillating and bowing under the assault of pure pleasure. He gripped her to him, pushing and pulling her on him, short, quick strokes that strengthened her release, almost to the point of no return. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders as her pleasure heightened, sank, and then suddenly heightened once more. Not able to withstand the magnificent torture, she implored him. "Please, John," she whispered, and trembling and growling deeply in his chest, he sank completely into her and obtained his release as well.

They held each other in silence, pulling in air into their lungs and attempting reclaim some strength in their legs. His body held her to the wall; without its support they would surely have ended up on the floor of the shower. Her arms remained wrapped around him as she gently rubbed the skin at the back of his neck, taking in the feel of their naked bodies together. The woman in her relished the feel of his strength pushing her to the wall while he was still in her.

He reached over to turn the water off. Though neither of them said anything, the silence didn't feel awkward. For now, they were just savoring the closeness of the moment.

He gently kissed her temple and cupped a breast in his big hand with the softest of touches. As he brushed a thumb over and around her nipple, she felt the zing of desire stir again all the way through the rest of her body. Pressing her lips to his still wet shoulder, she sighed and rested her head on it.

Zoe moved her mouth, tasted the wet skin of his neck and inhaled his clean scent once again. Though his breathing altered and his body shifted, he didn't move away from her. John just moved even closer and deeper into her, and it felt just right.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice low and rough but soothing.

"Good, okay, I guess." She was delightfully warm, superbly languid. Although they did need to get dried off, neither one of them made a move. She kissed his neck again and threw in a nip for good measure. "You?"

"Good, okay, I guess," he said, mimicking her words.

She smiled then sighed against his shoulder. "I hope you realize that I beat myself up enough about what happened this morning," she said lifting her head out of her hiding place and stared directly into his eyes, searching for some type of acknowledgement.

He just nodded. "Zoe, we said things this morning that were obviously in the heat of the moment, and I don't think there is anything either one of us could say right now that would take away the pain of those words."

Leaning her forehead against his she said, "You're right, I was just lashing out at you and in the process, I hurt you and for that I am truly sorry." She would never have apologized in the past, but now, it was important to her that she did and it was because it was John.

"I shouldn't have accused you of being so callous, I know you better than that and I should have held my anger in check."

"Well, there is that," she said, teasing him as if that were obvious.

He pulled his head back a little, looking down at her. "So, had you convinced your client of Lisa's sincerity?" He asked.

"Yes, unfortunately, it wasn't soon enough," she said with tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. She wasn't crying for herself, or for Lisa for that matter. She was crying for the baby that could have been.

He slightly moved, grudgingly unraveling their bodies, and she let him. She took her legs from around his waist, her thighs gliding down his until her feet once more touched the floor. He tilted her chin up so their eyes met. He gently rubbed the tears away with his thumbs. "You know you couldn't have known about what Lisa would do right?" His voice rumbled in his chest, deep and gruff.

She looked down and away, "I know, it's just . . ."

He pulled her face up to look at him again, "I know, it's always the loss of the innocent that is hard to recover from." He rubbed his thumb over her lower lip, then gave her a gentle reassuring kiss and pulled her to him and offered her comfort the only way he knew how; by being there for her.

The End


End file.
